


through the constellations

by shuantics



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (side johnshua), (side soonwoo), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Romance, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, more plot than porn uh oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 13:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13788372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuantics/pseuds/shuantics
Summary: And before Jihoon knows it, the doe-eyed astrophysics major is the center of his whole universe. Seungcheol’s the sun, and Jihoon’s slowly crashing into him.





	through the constellations

Jihoon likes to think he has everything under control.

“Slow the fuck down, man.”

Everything. Completely. Under his control.

Jihoon looks at the voice of bemusement coming from his friend sitting to the left. “What?” he intones, his throat casting quickly as he hands rummage the table for a drink.

“It’s barely ten o’clock and you’re already pissed, Hoon.” Jeonghan snatches Jihoon’s coke and rum swiftly before Jihoon’s paws can clasp the cold glass. “Take a breather.”

If Jihoon were, in fact, not absolutely inebriated, he probably would’ve headed the advice, called it halftime, and stumbled to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Instead, he whines like the toddler alcohol usually regresses him to and reaches out across the numerous beer bottles and shot glasses to grab the prohibited liquid.

Jeonghan almost falls on Jisoo trying to keep it away from him. “Just wait a bit, Jihoon,” he insists. “You can have it in a second.”

“Here,” Jisoo kindly says, offering up a water bottle which Jihoon snatches unfairly.

“Jesus, I don’t need all of you babying me,” he exasperates. “I’m doing  _totally_  okay.”

He isn't. Shit, Jihoon can’t quite see straight. The sides of his vision hum and his head feels like it’s so full of air he could just float away if he wanted to. He gulps down the water and scrunches his nose up, feeling the boring slip of plainness do nothing to quench his thirst.

Dull thuds of music beats ricochet around his ears, making him feel slow and more intoxicated than he must be. The booth he and his friends sit in is tucked into the far corner of the glowing purple club, up on a balcony that overlooks the dance floor well fed with people. Jihoon’s never been much of a public dancer, but his feet tap and twist to the generic, EDM track that sounds no different from the one that was played a second ago.

“God, this song is shit,” he mutters quietly, resting his head back against the cushioned booth.

“I’m trying to tell if he’s really that drunk or if that’s just something Jihoon would say.”

“Shut up, Jisoo, you’re a lightweight.”

“Hey, don’t talk to your hyung like that.”

“Eat my ass, Jeonghan.”

“Yeah, he’s drunk.”

Jihoon again tries to lunge of the glass still at Jeonghan’s fingertips but is met with the latter’s palm pressed to his cheek. He kicks his legs, sticks his bottom lip out and lets a _hmph!_  leave his throat. His dry, alcohol craving throat.

Yeah, this situation is honestly all accounted for.

“Why’s Jihoon acting like a six-year-old?”

Jihoon looks to the new voice, someone sliding into the spot next to Jihoon’s roommate (Junhui) who’s sitting next to Jisoo’s boyfriend (that guy whose name Jihoon can’t remember) who are seated to the right of Jeonghan. It takes Jihoon a minute to decipher his face from the blur of everyone else’s, but as it pings (a lot slower than it should’ve) he lets the childishly innocent grin curl into his cheeks.

“Jihoon’s drunk.”

“Jihoon’s  _fine, and wants his alcohol.”_  Jihoon again reaches for his coke and rum, but half-heartedly lets himself be pushed away.

Seungcheol sits across from him now, his aftershave clouding over the table and mixing with the other’s to make a scent that Jihoon gets high off. His pink lips wrap around the head of a beer bottle, which he gently tips back to take a swig.

Jihoon shivers.

“How many has he had?”

Jisoo’s boyfriend starts to count on his fingers before giving up. “I don’t even know.” (Why can’t Jihoon remember his name! This is, like, the second time they’ve met!)

Seungcheol throws over a smile, one where his lips are half raised into what Jihoon takes as a cocky smirk. If he weren’t apparently seeing double, he’d lean over and wipe that look of his dastardly handsome face.

Seungcheol’s fucking  _beautiful._  Jihoon thinks he’s just realized that. Even in the dim lights of the club, his skin still glows golden and his features still sit carved by some God: his round cheeks, big eyes, lips that look like candy and eyelashes that look like feathers. Fuck, how has he not noticed how good-looking Choi Seungcheol is? Why has it taken three shots and half a bottle of white rum to see that?

If he were sober, he’d guess it had something to do with his somewhat cynical outlook upon ‘young love.’ It’s not that he’s  _against_  the idea of finding someone to date at the ripe age of eighteen, or even that he’s a cynic for love itself. On the contrary, Jihoon’s found himself dappling in many disgustingly romantic contemporary books in his time and found himself even prouder at enjoying them. It’s more so the fact that he’s just not bothered. He’s not into the idea that he needs to go looking now for someone to lock down before he graduates in four years time, despite what his ever-so-conservative parents say. Relationships can wait, frankly, and so can any man who wants him. (Not that he’s met anyone who does, either.)

“Who needs a boyfriend?” he proclaimed. “Or a girlfriend, for that matter. They’re useless at this point in my life.” And he stands by it.

“Well, I admire you for that,” Jisoo replied. “I love having Youngho around.”

(Ah! Youngho, that’s his name!)

Jihoon finds himself, really, to be stronger knowing he can pass through a room of perfectly attractive people not be willed to disrupt his priorities: school, job,  _then_ he can start opening himself to fill his free time.

But, shit, Seungcheol… Has he done something with his hair? Dyed it? Cut it? It’s probably that Jihoon can now see his eyebrows that’s giving him such a Seungcheol-esque culture shock. His black hair has been combed up and stuck in a subtle quiff, truly letting his forehead breathe and allowing his brows to shape his dark eyes. If looks were everything, Seungcheol would be the ideal husband.

_Shut up, Jihoon. You’ve known the guy for like a month._

Fuck, at this point, he’d pull a Kim K and marry Seungcheol anyway if he got a piece of that ass.

Oh, God, what’s happening to him?

Jihoon likes to think he has everything under control, as he finally snatches his drink from Jeonghan’s hands and glugs it like a lifeline.

Everything. Completely. Under his control. Which is exactly why waking up next to Seungcheol was  _totally_  part of the plan.

 

~

 

Seungcheol’s already stirring as Jihoon bolts up in bed.

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” He instantly regrets the sudden movement and cradles his throbbing head in his hands. His eyes feel as if they’re being poked with a hundred needles and his head feels like the Seven fucking Dwarves are looking for gold up there. He’s in his dorm room, Junhui’s bed opposite empty, and while stuffed together on Jihoon’s tiny single, Seungcheol’s body acts as a radiator that’s too hot to touch. He starts to wriggle around so Jihoon pulls the duvet to his shoulders and tucks it under his chin.

“Ow,” the former croaks. His eyes are barely open as he lifts his hand to place on his forehead. “Oh, my head hurts.”

(Holy shit, his voice sounds sexy– Shut _up,_  Jihoon, now’s not the time.)

“Uh, good morning?” Jihoon tries. It’s an awkward thing to say, sure, but awkward times call for awkward measures. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He knew the answer. He just wishes he didn’t.

Seungcheol pauses from groaning in pain and looks up at Jihoon from his position lying down. “I thought you'd be too drunk to remember.”

He was. Jihoon remembers all of nothing from last night. Well, he remembers the club; the terrible music; Jeonghan daring him to take three consecutive shots before rushing, “I’m kidding, Jihoon, put the tequila down!” He remembers… Youngho (if that was his name) basically eating Jisoo’s face and remembers Seungcheol, looking like a full course meal and a snack in between.

He’s smart enough to see the correlation.

“Were you?” Jihoon drinks in Seungcheol now: He’s hungover; a bit pale in the face; eyes clouded with dark circles. He looks like a mess, but a delicious one with his hair tousled and his lips still a vibrant pink. Warmth washes over him like a spell of comfort. When Jihoon’s not hating the pounding in his head and feeling like the whole of his insides are going to escape from his mouth, he’ll tell himself again and again that it was just a one night stand. You can have them and not want to fall in love. It meant nothing.

Nothing. Yeah.

“Uh, I don’t… think so.” Seungcheol runs his hands over his face, skin dehydrated and his lips smacking in dryness. Jihoon reaches for the bottle of water on his nightstand and hands it to him. “I didn’t think I was _that_ drunk last night. Guess I was.”

It’s stiff, awkward, unusual. The two were just passing the gates of being acquaintances and now they’re sharing a duvet. Jihoon’s not used to waking up with a guy in his bed, and he’s currently deciding if he’s into it or not. He keeps quiet, holding the sheets tighter around his pale, naked body to keep any drops of warmth from fleeting. Seungcheol stares off for a second, heading to Jihoon’s silence like he was thinking deeply himself. He almost makes Jihoon flinch as he suddenly starts to get up.

“I should probably get going.”

Jihoon nods gently along, scooting to the side to let Seungcheol climb out of the small bed. “Uh, I don’t know if you want to shower but the dorm bathrooms are–”

“–Down the hall and to the left.” Seungcheol smiles. (Jihoon tries to focus his attention there, and not let his eyes wander to anything left exposed as Seungcheol searches for his clothes.) “I know, I did live here last year.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Right, right. My bad.” He politely looks away as Seungcheol dresses and scolds himself for a) the tiny little devil on his shoulder begging him for a look and b) the state of Junhui’s and his room. They’d been living together for a mere month and the place already looked like a bomb went off. Seungcheol’s going to think he’s a total slob!

Then again, why does he care what Seungcheol thinks? It was just one-night stand.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Jihoon nods and lets Seungcheol in on a small, awkward smile, the breath leaving his body in a heap as the door quietly clicks closed behind him. He collapses back onto his pillow and rolls around, pulling the duvet over his head and letting out a groan in equal pain and annoyance.

Shit. His sheets still smell like Seungcheol.

Jihoon raises a hand and slaps himself across the face.

It was just a one night stand. Just a one-night stand.

 

~

 

Totally. Under. Control.

Do one-night stands count if they happen twice?

“Ow! Fuck, Jihoon…”

Jihoon releases his talon-like grip on Seungcheol’s hair and lets his body deflate in the desk chair. “Sorry,” he mutters, but it comes out short – his dick suddenly becomes preoccupied with Seungcheol’s tongue on it again.

Somewhere in between leaving his dorm room and arriving at the campus library, Jihoon bumps into Seungcheol. (It’s the only contact he’s had with the latter in weeks bar the occasional closed-lipped smile from across the cafe tucked behind the Administration hall.) At another point between leaving the campus library and getting a snack from the food hall, they make a detour to an empty auditorium (Seungcheol had “lost a pen” during his morning lecture) and decide it’d be a great place to go down on one another.

Or, more accurately, Seungcheol makes some tawdry comment about how a blowjob would help Jihoon relax through his first ever college finals week, and Jihoon laughs so hard that he almost doesn’t notice Seungcheol’s face burn red.

“Oh, you were serious?”

Looking at his feet (while looking rather adorable) Seungcheol snorts a laugh. “I mean–” He makes a face, an absurd one like he were about to berate Jihoon for suggesting such, before biting his plump bottom lip. “I mean, yeah, if you want.” His face somehow grows darker as Jihoon practically gawks.

Here’s the thing: Jihoon remembers nothing from his night with Seungcheol. Not a damn thing. And he could kill himself for that. He sees him sometimes, when he visits Jeonghan’s apartment or when he’s briskly walking to his next class, and every time, he begs himself a little to remember the silkiness of his skin under his fingertips or remember the hot breaths that fanned over his cheeks. But he just can’t. Jihoon was simply too pissed to remember a single moment from his first one night stand ever.

Do blowjobs like this count as a one night stand? Do they count when they take place mid-to-late evening?

Seungcheol at this angle somehow looks more fantastic than from Jihoon’s typical point of view (which is tilting his head up ever so slightly). Seungcheol on his knees is a sight to be goddamn savored.

One of Jihoon’s legs is tucked over Seungcheol’s shoulder, the other is spread far apart to accommodate the broad man between them. His jeans are open and have been shucked below his knees, Seungcheol’s hands sprawled out over his plush skin as his laps his tongue over the pink tip.

Jihoon keeps his hand at the base of Seungcheol’s neck and twists his fingers into his dark, bottom hairs. He makes soft noises, knowing the size of the theater would have acoustics fit for an orchestra and fixes his eyes on the man below him with his flushed cheeks and big eyes and lips that look like red jelly worms.

“You can pull my hair,” Seungcheol says with a sheepish smile. “Just… not too tight.”

Jihoon rolls his lips together and nods, letting his eyes slip closed and allowing himself to just feel those candy lips and the warmth they bring wrapping around his cock. He sucks in a breath between his teeth and lets it out the deeper he feels himself sink into Seungcheol’s throat.

If the first time he saw Seungcheol he knew he’d be sitting in an empty lecture hall and being given head, he would’ve laughed and said, “I wish.” If he knew right now that this would be the loose rock on the cliff; the shove that sent him on the slippery slope down, he would’ve stopped laughing, and maybe taken the breather Jeonghan told him to.

But he didn’t.

Seungcheol moans from deep in his throat and Jihoon almost snaps his hips to choke the former. “Shit,” he mutters, vibrations from Seungcheol’s voice sending a surge of shivers up his spine. Oh, God, he’d forgot how great this is.

Seungcheol pulls his mouth away to offer Jihoon a sweet smile. He lips, wet with saliva, shimmer and pucker as he presses them in small pecks up the length of Jihoon’s shaft. Jihoon can’t help it – he laces his fingers into the tangle of black hair and tries to urge Seungcheol’s head forward, another chuckle brushing past the man’s lips and drafting over the ache of Jihoon’s cock.

“I’m tempted to make you ask nicely for it.”

“Shut up,” Jihoon snaps. He bites his lip but Seungcheol does nothing but grin at him. “Don’t.”

He’s teasing his tongue along all the way up, pointed and tracing the veins that scatter. He’s too good at this, Jihoon thinks. Who taught him? Or has he just watched so much porn that he’s a master? Probably that. Hopefully that.

Heat floods Jihoon’s entire body, from his core to his face as Seungcheol goes back down again. His mouth is wet and warm and feels like heaven. He’s slow, taking his time with bobbing his head back and forth, back and forth, spreading Jihoon’s leaking cum like easy butter.

Seungcheol’s tongue laps and Jihoon’s knees clench. He drops his head back onto the chair and moans out breathily; he can barely breathe the more he feels the dull rumble of arousal patter in his stomach. Seungcheol’s lips are red now, swollen and he’s drumming out a rhythm that Jihoon could dance to. “Seungcheol…” he moans, a sweet sudden tightening in his gut when the mentioned’s eyes flicker up. Jihoon licks his lips and smacks them together, no words coming next but a frail whine as Seungcheol’s teeth are ever-so-gently dragged up his length. “Oh,  _God,_  fuck.”

Seungcheol’s definitely done this way too many times. Jihoon doesn’t even care anymore.

“Let me–” he begins but is gasping a moan Seungcheol suddenly takes him in to the base, his tip proding right to the back of his throat. Fuck, does he have any gag reflex? “Jesus, Seungcheol.” Jihoon chokes out a laugh as Seungcheol pulls back and swallows around his cock, small lisps of saliva slipping from his lips. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“That’s the idea,” Seungcheol husks and Jihoon almost cries with how good voice sounds after a deep-throat. He spends a few moments sliding his tongue over Jihoon’s slit before engulfing Jihoon again, and as he spits on his hand and strokes the free skin (while giving Jihoon  _those fucking_  eyes) the latter doesn’t last long. He cums with a groan in Seungcheol’s mouth before he has the manners to warn him.

When Jihoon arrives back at his dorm (with his hair thoroughly tousled and his jaw perfectly slack) he flops onto his small bed. The taste of Seungcheol’s release has been washed down with a toastie and a bottle of coke that the pair had shared, but the fucking  _feeling._  He doesn’t care that he missed that drunken night anymore, call this his closure.

Only not really.

Nothing was closed, but everything was bust wide open.

Jihoon gives a nod to Junhui as his roommate returns from the dorm showers, and after being asked, “How was the library?” he smiles, buries his face into his pillow, and screams.

Jihoon isn’t, and probably never has been in control of anything. The feeling of falling in love being the biggest one, but he wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

 

~

 

So this is where Jihoon’s at. He wrote a list:

  * A boyfriend (or girlfriend) at nineteen is still a bit pointless. Other than spending money I don’t have on dates and presents, they’re only really good for cuddling and sex  ~~which are two things I can live without for the time being.~~



He’s scribbled through that last part and has written this instead:

  * Sex is a basic human necessity and Seungcheol has given me quite a good offer.



 

“I mean…” Seungcheol brushes one strand of hair from his eyes and lets out a breath. “What I’m trying to say is that I could be your go-to guy when you need to...  _you know.”_ He waves his hand like Jihoon was supposed to know what that means.

“Get off?”

“Basically.”

Jihoon lifts the blanket to his chin and hums. “Like a… like a benefits thing?”

Seungcheol quirks a smile. “Yeah. Like a benefits thing.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“If you want to title it so bad.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to be friends. Then again, what does he want? He doesn’t want to date Seungcheol – frankly, he doesn’t want to date anyone. Sure, he kind of wants to hold Seungcheol’s hand and have the feeling of his dick in him every once in a while, but he doesn’t want to  _date_  him. Dating is overrated and Jihoon’s never been one to follow trends.

Freshman year is barely even over, but college is turning out to be way more confusing than he thinks it needs to be.

He’s alright with that though. Seungcheol’s confusing, but the good kind. The kind of confusion that follows after a movie but you can’t bring yourself to be mad at the confusion because the film was so good.

Sex with Seungcheol is like a movie. Perfectly scripted, directed, performed; a clear beginning, climax, and finale. Sometimes they manage a sequel. Jihoon could do without the ambiguous ending, the wondering if the way that Seungcheol’s kisses last longer are just a habit or not, or thinking that waking up the next morning with his warm body beside him is a right.

Jihoon doesn’t know what it is about Seungcheol. It could be anything from his immaculate skill between the sheets or the fact that he has a pure heart of gold. He’s not interested in pinpointing the perfection that is Choi Seungcheol, but Jihoon finds that the more he pushes the idea of loving him away, the more it seems to come around and nip him on the ass.

 

  * I'm in love Seungcheol



 

Jihoon posies his pen at his lips and goes to write another word, but his hand grasps the notebook and tears the whole page out, pulling his hood over his head and collapsing onto his desk with a groan.

 

~

 

They didn’t talk over summer.

Frankly, Jihoon didn’t have a way to: he didn’t have Seungcheol’s number, he hadn’t added him on Facebook, and he could honestly do without the teasing from Jeonghan if he’d decided to ask.

Maybe that was good. Because the way his hands are grabbing his body makes him think Seungcheol missed him too.

“You’ve lost weight.” Seungcheol’s paws are clasped around Jihoon’s thighs, hoisting them around his waist as he presses his body into the wall of Jihoon’s room. He, Junhui, and two Literature majors, Soonyoung and Wonwoo, rented their own place a short walk from the main campus. It’s bigger and Jihoon gets a little room to himself with a nice view of the building next door and is in wonderful earshot for when Soonyoung and Wonwoo decide to fuck loudly. (The walls are pretty thin. He told Seungcheol that. Seungcheol said he didn’t care.)

“You have too.” As far as Jihoon knows, Seungcheol spent the summer with Jeonghan and Jisoo in some tropical city. (God knows how they can afford it when the younger four can barely afford plates to eat off.) Jihoon can tell - Seungcheol’s tanned. His cheekbones are more prominent and he’s picked up a new red lip tint. Jihoon bites at it to show his approval. “Have a good summer?”

“Jihoon.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t try and make small talk when I’m about to fuck you.”

Jihoon bites back a smile as Seungcheol bites a mark into his neck.

 

“I did miss you, though.” Jihoon has his jeans pulled off as he’s lain on the bed. He pulls an exaggerated pout, acting drunk on the way Seungcheol kisses up his navel. “You left me to my own devices.”

“I think you could have certainly satisfied yourself for a couple of months.” Seungcheol’s basically whispering and Jihoon lets a shiver rock his spine.

“Oh, I did thank you.”

Seungcheol kisses Jihoon hard on the lips, the latter’s arms slung over his shoulders as his frame is lifted from the mattress and held in Seungcheol’s arms. “Not as good as the real thing,” he mutters, breathing cut short between messy kisses.

“You seem sure of yourself,” Jihoon retaliates. Seungcheol kisses his neck again, hands dancing up Jihoon’s spine temptingly.

“No fault of your own…” Seungcheol pulls back, bearing his teeth at Jihoon’s ear before whispering, “You’re the one who’s calling my name and forgetting your own.”

Jihoon falls back onto the mattress and lets himself go weak to touch. He’s turned over, brought to his knees and ground against, feeling Seungcheol’s length through the thin gym shorts against his skin. He flutters his eyes closed, his own cock hardening as Seungcheol’s hand grips it, slick with his spit, warm and soft. He keeps his moans to his pillow, resting his head against it as Seungcheol easily raises his hips up.

“I do love it when you finger yourself for me, baby,” Seungcheol says. He breathes warmly against Jihoon shoulder, kissing down the skin as the other grips the pillow cover like a lifeline. His fingers patter over Jihoon’s behind, circle around the slicked entrance. Jihoon bites down on his lips and peeks over his shoulder as Seungcheol continues, “You think about me when you do it?”

Of fucking course he does. Who else would he think about when he’s been texted, “I’m coming over.” He hadn’t had anything inside him other than his own fingers for  _months,_ he’d just gotten used to it. At just the thought of Seungcheol after so long, Jihoon barricaded him in his room and hid under the blankets, his lube to the left and his phone to the right, helplessly whimpering into his sleeve until he heard the rasp of knuckles and Junhui calling, “Can someone grab that?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon croaks out. His clenches everytime Seungcheol gets near and groans the more he pulls away. Dirty talk was never really his thing (then again, nothing other than plain old sex was) but whatever Seungcheol does, Jihoon is all for on all fours.

“Did your pretty little cock get hard when you think about me?”

Jihoon doesn’t know if he wants to collapse in a moaning heap or give Seungcheol a smack for calling his cock ‘little’. (Short people problems.) “Yes,” he hisses. He munches into the pillow as Seungcheol shifts behind him, shucking himself of his shorts and pressing himself ruling against Jihoon. “Hm, Cheol, don’t tease me again.”

“You missed me.”

“I missed you.”

(There’s a small swirl of sickness clouding Jihoon’s gut, but he pushes it away in exchange for a clench in the fleeting desperation to cling onto pleasure.)

“A lot?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you just fucking pound me already!”

Jihoon, too, doesn’t care that the walls are paper thin, and hopes the comment resonates with Seungcheol just as much as it may have with his roommates.

Seungcheol eases himself into Jihoon, hands clasping his shoulders and a long moan coming from Jihoon’s lips. “Fuck, yes…” he whispers.  _God, it's like giving a shot to an alcoholic._

Jihoon forces his body to relax, and inches himself further back on Seungcheol’s cock. He breathes in the feeling; the stretch; the sound of Seungcheol’s groan as it hitches in his throat. He feels warm, filled, so pathetically complete. He kind of wants to turn around and give Seungcheol a long, loving kiss. Fuck, he really did miss him.

“Are you gonna fucking move?” he asks. “Or do I have to use your dick as my toy and do it myself?”

He expresses things in an odd way.

Seungcheol scoffs. He threads his fingers into Jihoon’s hair and pushes his face against the mattress. “You love me too much.”

(There’s a pang in his gut – and not the one he gets when he cums – that makes him want to scream at Seungcheol for being so… so... Fuck, he doesn’t even know what he is, Jihoon just knows it’s  _him._ )

Jihoon’s quickly gasping out in pleasure; Seungcheol’s hips hitting him hard, his length fucking him open like it’s his testament. His moans go unwarranted, the sting of his thighs slapping against Seungcheol’s is unphasing as he ruts against his bed, indescribable chills ricocheting over his entire body. “Cheol…” he mewls.

Seungcheol only fucks him faster, tugs on his hair a little harder, and raises himself to reach a bit deeper. Jihoon doesn’t want to be that guy who cums in a minute,  _but…_

“What did you say about the walls being thin?” Seungcheol rasps. He nibbles at Jihoon’s shoulder after slowing down, much to the whine that leaves Jihoon’s throat.

“E-everyone can hear…” He’s panting. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out.

“Do you want everyone to hear me fuck you?”

 _It’s a trap,_  Jihoon thinks.  _He’s just gonna make everyone hear you anyway._

Jihoon almost gets giddy at the thought. “N-no.”

Seungcheol lifts his hips. “Too bad.” He thrusts back into Jihoon hard.

 _This fucker is going to_ kill me.

“Oh, fuck you!” Jihoon yelps, crushing his face into his pillow as Seungcheol starts to build his pace again.

Seungcheol’s laugh is deep and sexy and it makes the heat rush straight to Jihoon’s dick. “Awh, baby…” he coos. Jihoon could just smack him. “You know how I love fucking you loud.”

Oh yeah, he does.

Seungcheol pulls out of Jihoon and turns his body over, taking his wrists in a flimsy grasp and hooking his legs over his thighs. Jihoon barely has a chance to brace his breath before Seungcheol is snapping his hips back into him. He rolls his head back, bites his lip and curses to the heavens at the sin unfolding over his body.

This angle is better. This angle gets him deeper.

“Fuck,  _fuck_ yes!” Jihoon clasps a hand over his mouth when Seungcheol strikes him  _there_. “There, again, Cheol,” he begs. “Please.”

 _Don’t touch me yet,_ he thinks.  _I’ll cum too soon._

Seungcheol thrashes into him with successive, hard thrusts. Jihoon pulls him closer by the shoulders and squeezes his legs around his waist. “Oh, God.” The more he’s fucked into, the more the feeling plummets, the few ropes holding up his orgasm fizzling to a crisp. “Cheol!” he calls like he’s reaching out for him to save him.

Seungcheol rolls, snaps, eases and fucks his way into Jihoon’s conscience, holding him captive in a willing cage with his arms pinned either side. “Fuck,” he chokes. He leans down and kisses Jihoon hard, moans being swallowed and skin flush against skin.

“More,” Jihoon cranes. “More, t-there!” It feels like a ball of fire is crawling through his gut, churning his body into a mess belonging to Seungcheol. “Please,” he begs unintentionally. “Please, fuck it feels so good…”

Seungcheol services him in a way that makes him go insane. He tries to choke it down, hold on just for a little longer, but sanity is his key that he’s thrown away forever.

Jihoon bites down on Seungcheol’s shoulder and cums with a cry that probably damages Seungcheol’s eardrum (and makes him orgasm all the same, but Jihoon doesn’t know if he wants that in his stride yet).

 

“I did actually miss you,” Seungcheol says. He’s clean, wrapped in Jihoon’s blanket and keeping his arms very much to himself. His eyelids are dropping, thick lashes dusting over his pink cheeks. “Just so you know.”

Jihoon, lying next to him, smiles. “Thanks, your absence was significant to me as well.”

Seungcheol snorts, “Shut up.” and lets out a sigh as he sinks softly into slumber.

Jihoon stays up for a little while longer, quite creepily watching Seungcheol as he sleeps. He brushes a strand of hair from his closed eye and feels the familiar lurch of sickness like he were touching something he shouldn’t. Seungcheol is just so goddamn  _wonderful._ In everything he does. In the way he’s so soft and gentle and cute, but equally as rough and brash and authoritarian when he wants to be. He’s just, for lack of better word, perfect.

Jihoon hopes he finds a flaw in him soon. His heart can’t take it anymore.

It’s just too easy to love him.

 

~

 

Here’s the thing: Seungcheol’s perfect. Like,  _literal_ perfection.

Whether it's in the way he’s draping Jihoon over a desk and fucking him until he’s starry-eyed, or how he shows up at the strangest of times with an offer of softer means, Seungcheol just emits a God-given natural sense of bliss.

“We can do food then movie and catch the late screening,” he says, “or movie then food and catch the bottom of the barrel of the burgers in the shack.”

“I’ll take food then movie. I can’t enjoy things on an empty stomach,” Jihoon replies.

“Oh, I know.” Seungcheol smiles one of his, for lack of less hilarity,  _cheeky_ smiles, and Jihoon takes a swing.

For the record, this isn’t a date. (Jihoon even said so.)

It’s just a ‘Seungcheol saw Jihoon have a mental and emotional collapse about life behind the bleachers and decided to take him out on what looks like a date to cheer him up’. Just some good, old-fashioned friends with benefits hanging out, as you do.

If it were a date, Jihoon would have already made out with him by now. But it’s not, so no back of the bus kissing for him.

Not that he wants it to be either. Shut up.

“You didn’t have to buy me one, you know.” Jihoon’s cold fingers clutch the patty, steam floating easily into the November air. “I have money.”

“Thank you, is usually the expected term.”

Jihoon mouths a swear at him and waits until they’re walking to say, “Thank you, Seungcheol.”

“You’re welcome, Jihoon.”

“I’ll pay you back.

“You can buy me a soda later.”

“Deal.”

Jihoon’s not felt so secure in a long time. Even when Seungcheol had his arms around Jihoon, patting his back and telling it’s going to be alright, Jihoon just felt warm. It’s like Seungcheol’s a path in a winding forest: when Jihoon’s trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life and having the surprisingly common mid-sophomore year crisis, Seungcheol’s just there without him know how and he follows him because that’s what his common sense says to do. When it's Seungcheol, he doesn't feel so alone.

Jihoon scrunches his nose. “Dude, the smell of your onions is distracting.”

Seungcheol barks a laugh. “What, distracting you from enjoying the taste of your own burger.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe you like crispy devil’s seed on your food.”

“Onions are nice!” Seungcheol protests. “You’re just boring.”

“You’re the kind of guy who has pineapple on pizza, you try to hard to be edgy.”

“How do food choices make you edgy?”

Jihoon shrugs. “I hate it when you argue with me.”

“You started it.”

“I just made a comment.” Jihoon bites into his meal. “You are, by the way, ten times less appealing when you have garlic breath.”

“Well, you always have morning breath so you can shut up.”

Jihoon bites his tongue and hums, Seungcheol looking at him and giggling. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters, to an outburst of laughter.

“I think I win.”

“I think you’re stupid–” Before Jihoon can step from the pavement onto the road, he’s yanked back by his jacket, slamming into Seungcheol’s firm chest as a pair of cyclists speed by.

“Watch where you’re going,  _stupid.”_ Seungcheol’s eyes bore seriousness at Jihoon yet he wears a somehow proud smile. (Probably something to do with his perfectly timed jab, but Jihoon’s too lost in those dark galaxies to care.) It’s like a scene from an overplayed, unaware romcom, Seungcheol with his arms tight around Jihoon, unmoving, with his lips looking like a treat of wonders.

It’s  _almost_ fucking _perfect._

Jihoon realizes two things when he wakes up with his head on Seungcheol’s chest: one, his face is still burning, he’s still flushed, he’s still flustered at the thought of spending a life in Seungcheol’s arms and two, he never bought Seungcheol a soda. So, practically, Seungcheol bought Jihoon dinner.

Practically, it was a date.

And practically, Jihoon's always wanted it to be.

Why does Choi Seunghceol have to go and make everything so complicated?

 

~

 

To reiterate the point, Jihoon's in love.

X-rated, unadulterated love, complete with always thinking about him, having his heart stop when he's near and wanting so, so bad to always be in his arms.

So, basically, Jihoon never had it under control. There is no control when Seungcheol's around.

 

~

 

Jihoon learns a few things over spring break:

One, Jisoo and Youngho are disgusting. They fucked on the counter before they made dinner. (According to Jeonghan. who's as reliable a source as urban dictionary.)

Two, they’re as good at relationships as everyone seems to think.

Between playing around in the kitchen and the pair reiterating their future plans, Jihoon asks, “Can I ask you two a question?”

“Is it dating advice? If so, I’m not your guy.” Youngho points at Jisoo. “I may have him but I don’t know how I did it.”

Jihoon smiles. “It’s not exactly.”

“Go ahead.”

He breathes in through his nose as he thinks. “How did you guys know that, like, you were going to be  _good_ together?” He glances around like he’s looking for prying ears. “Like, how did you know you were going to work out?”

Jisoo stops cutting carrot slices and hums. “Depends. Depends on how you a relationship. I mean, it’s different for everyone. Some people think it’s about having someone’s attention twenty-four-seven, three-six-five. Others think it's about making time for one another when you can.”

Jihoon twists his lips. “But like, how do you know that your definition of a relationship will correspond with someone else’s?”

“Trial and error,” Jisoo says. “It’s impossible to get things right first try, sometimes. You’re not gonna know until you know.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Jisoo turns to his boyfriend. “What?”

“You said ‘impossible’ and ‘sometimes’ in the same sentence. ‘Sometimes’ leaves room for two or more options of something happening. ‘Impossible’ leaves room for none.”

Jisoo turns back to Jihoon and rolls his eyes. “Don’t work with kids, animals or language majors.”

Jihoon laughs as Youngho makes a face. “Take us, for example,” he says. “We work well because we both see relationships the same way: things to indulge in with someone you like. And we make that work. So we work out.”

“Yeah, and if someone’s like who I said earlier, they’re gonna need someone who thinks the same for them to work out.”

“Why do you ask, anyway?” A smile curves Jisoo’s lips. “I thought you didn’t want to date anyone yet.”

“I don’t,” Jihoon replies, rather hastily. “I was just… asking.”

“Okay,” Jisoo hums. “Just so you know, Soonyoung already told us about you and Cheol hooking up so…” he leans closer. “If you do want some advice on dating him, I have known him since the second grade.”

Jihoon flushes red, already thinking of creative ways to strangle the bright-haired loudmouth when he gets home. “I don’t wanna date Seungcheol,” he stammers. “I don’t want to date anyone!”

“I still don’t get why not,” Youngho comments. “I mean, no disrespect - you do you, but just… why not?”

“Why, still?” Jihoon sighs. “I mean, a relationship to me is something to, like, invest in. Something that takes time and effort, effort which, at the moment, I do not have in enough abundance to make someone else happy. Plus, money spent on things like dates and gifts and phone bills… It can just, I think. Like, I’m twenty, I got other things to worry about.”

Jisoo continues chopping adornments for his stir-fry. “Makes sense, I guess. All in perspective. But just saying, if you  _did_ wanna date Seungcheol–”

“I don’t!”

He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince anymore.

 

As Jihoon nods off with his palm squashing against his cheek, Jisoo nudges his boyfriend. “Did you notice what I did?”

Youngho looks at him and shakes his head.

“Jihoon said he didn’t want to date Seungcheol, right?”

“Right?”

“He never said he didn’t like him.”

 

~

 

“Jihoon!”

“ _Jesus_ Christ.” Jihoon holds his hand over his hammering heart and sighs. “Did you have to shout? I was literally two steps ahead of you.”

Seungcheol flushes as he slows his jog to stride next to Jihoon. “Sorry. Just wanted to alert you to my presence.”

Jihoon snorts. “Presence alerted, thank you. Where you off to?”

“Your class, actually.”

Raising a brow, Jihoon nods. “Uh, why? I thought lab and robotics was a second-year class?”

“Yeah, I didn’t take it last year,” Seungcheol says. “I took the laboratory project a year early because it would have clashed with my planets and cosmology lectures this year.”

“Makes sense.”

“Speaking of, can I borrow your notes for the first semester?” He gasps before Jihoon can answer. “Better yet, tutor me and we can stuff studying and fucking into one session.”

Jihoon scoffs and looks around on their lonely walk to the Physics building. “You’re really dauntless aren’t you?”

Seungcheol flushes harder but grins.

Jihoon shakes his head. “Thursday good for you?”

“Thursday, 5 to 6?”

“Great.” Jihoon grins for no reason. “I’ll pencil you in.”

“It works out for me because I can study and fit in a blowjob all before my night class.” Seungcheol strides on, chuckling as Jihoon to a stunned stop.

_We work out pretty great, huh?_

He lands a hard slap on his cheek, promptly following Seungcheol into the theater.

 

~

 

They don’t  _mean_ to set up a sex-schedule, but sometimes things work better planned.

Sometimes, Thursday’s are too tiring for them to fuck, just as often as they’re too horny to study, so Tuesday becomes their days as well. As well as Saturdays, when Seungcheol’s parents don’t visit. Sometimes they talk and sometimes Jihoon just watches as Seungcheol has a well-needed sleep.

“Dude, you should totally come with us,” Soonyoung says. “Junie got a spare ticket.”

Jihoon looks at the clock. “Uhm…” Seungcheol’s due to come over in fifteen. Should he cancel?  _Can_ he cancel? “I’m alright, thanks.”

“You sure? We know how much you’ve wanted to see this.”

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll probably get an early night.”

And before Jihoon knows it, the doe-eyed astrophysics major is the center of his whole universe. Seungcheol’s the sun, and Jihoon’s slowly crashing into him.

It’s how he knows he’s way in over his head. But it works for him, at least.

 

~

 

“Do you know how many stars there are?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Two times ten to the power twenty-three.” Seungcheol shifts next to Jihoon while sitting on the roof of the astronomy tower. “That’s two with twenty-three zeros.

“That’s a lot of fucking stars.”

Seungcheol chuckles, his shoulders jittering right next to Jihoon’s. “Yeah.”

There’s quiet. But a comfortable one, laced in understanding and mutual respect for the sky above them.

“You know what I don’t get?” Seungcheol asks after a few moments.

“What?”

“Zodiacs.” He motions with his hands. “And horoscopes.”

“I never believed them, either,” Jihoon sighs. “Always used to annoy me when people tried to pass astrology off as astronomy.”

Seungcheol groans. “You’re telling  _me,_  I’m the astronomy major here.”

Jihoon snorts and brings his eyes to Seungcheol’s face. His skin gently glows in the dim light of the stars, his eyes softly shining as they stare up at the moon. “Horoscopes are a hoax anyway.”

“I mean, let people entertain themselves, I guess,” Seungcheol adds. “Astrology and astronomy are rooted together, really.”

Jihoon tries not to fall into the velvet of Seungcheol, the way his lashes slowly flutter or the pink of his tongue as he wets his lips. He can hear his own heart hammering in his ears, pounding some message that he should just lurch forwards and take Seungcheol’s face in his hands. He turns away before he actually can.

“I can read palms though.”

Jihoon snorts. “You can ‘read’ the natural creases in my hand’s skin.”

Seungcheol smiles at him. “Yeah.”

“Fuck off,” Jihoon laughs.

“I can!” he insists. “Give me your hand, I’ll do it now.”

Jihoon doesn’t have a choice as his cold hand is clasped in Seungcheol’s warm one. He shines his torch over his palm, humming exaggeratedly as Jihoon shakes with giggles.

“I see… a long money line, that’s good, but– ouch, short heart line–”

Jihoon tries to yank his hand away, only to have it gripped harder. “Hey,” he chuckles, leaning closer in contradiction.

“Jihoon–” Seungcheol’s big eyes look up at him, sparkling with worry and a panicked look on his face. “Oh, no, Jihoon…”

“What?” a bemused Jihoon asks. “What, did you see me meet a horrible death.”

“No, but… your life and health lines are  _tragically_ short!”

“Oh, shut up–”

“It seems the only way to fix this…” Seungcheol pauses, “it’s gonna sound horrible, but a known cure is always to stop being a moody, cynical–”

Jihoon succeeds in jerking his hand away and thumps Seungcheol on the arm instead. “You’re not funny,” he exclaims. “You’re really not.”

Laughing (that adorable laugh he does where cheeks are all chewy and his gums are all on show), Seungcheol defends himself from abuse and battles Jihoon with his own playful swing, pretending to clock him in his jaw before dropping his fists with a sigh. He leans back onto his hands and lets a breathy sigh pass his lips as Jihoon hugs his arms tighter around his body. “No but seriously, you’re gonna die soon.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes and sticks a middle finger up to Seungcheol. “Read this.”

Seungcheol winces. “Ooh, you really are in a feisty mood aren’t you,” he comments. “Must be the, uh, celestial arrangement for the meteor shower getting you antsy.”

“Now you’re just trying to annoy me.”

Seungcheol grins. “Well, yeah. You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Jihoon glances at him and feels his cheeks burn. “Don’t say that.”

“What?” Seungcheol hums. “You are.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you have to say it.”

“Cutie.”

“I will push you off the roof.”

“That’s adorable.”

Jihoon looks at his watch. “When’s the shower coming again?”

“Right about now.” Seungcheol motions up the sky and waits a few more seconds before quick spurts of lights begin darting over the darkness. A chorus of ooh’s and ahh’s echo from the courtyard below where other students have gathered to watch the meteor shower.

Jihoon sits back, his palms pressing against the gravel, marveling in quiet.

“Did you hear,” Seungcheol says after a while. “I’m spending next year in Houston.”

Jihoon frowns and tears his eyes from the sky while Seungcheol continues staring. “No, I hadn’t.” He feels a dull drop in his stomach, a pitched noise screwing with his head. Houston as in Texas, Houston? A thousand miles away Houston? Houston where he won't be able to see that bright smile, hear that enticing laugh, touch that soft skin? A year in Houston without him?Jihoon doesn't know what to think. He stays quiet and opes maybe Seuncgehol's being the ass he is and playing.

“Oh, I thought Jeonghan would’ve told you,” he chuckles. “Yeah, I’m gonna be starting an internship in NASA base there. It’ll help a lot with my project too. My plan is to be out there for a year, come back, graduate, then if things go well, get a job, have a family with a house and white picket fence…” he laughs to himself as Jihoon looks on blankly. “So, yeah. That’s pretty cool.”

Jihoon’s been quiet for too long. He swallows down something the size of a book and nods, looking back up to the stars. “That’s awesome, dude,” he replies. He can feel the warmth of Seungcheol’s look on him. “Really, that’s, like–” he tries his best to look happy, because he really wants to be for the man who means the world to him right now. He wants to set aside the bitter taste staining his tongue at the fact that Seungcheol is moving away and didn't give Jihoon a second thought. Really, why should Seungcheol think of Jihoon in his dream? It's not like he's thought of implicating Jihoon in his life the way Jihoon had thought of implicating him. Jihoon doesn't mean to Seungcheol what Seungcheol means to him. “–incredible. That’s your dream, right? NASA?”

Seungcheol hums. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m happy for you, man,” Jihoon smiles at him the best he can, his stomach twisting like a sick carnival ride. “You’re gonna do great over there.”

“I hope so.”

“When do you leave?”

“August.”

Jihoon feels the pang. That’s just three months. He's bombarded with the mix of not wanting Seungcheol to go and already feeling like he's left when he was never really there. Like he's been alone the entire time.

“I just wanted you to know, like…”

A tiny part of Jihoon’s heart jumps in hope.  _Know what?_ Blood surges around Jihoon's body.  _That you’re as hopelessly in love with me like I am with you? That you’re going to go to Texas and we’re going to stay in touch and you’ll come back sooner than I can think and I can graduate and we can do all the things that we don’t?_

“What?”

If he speaks again, he’s gonna be sick.

“Oh, just, like, I don’t want you to think we’re like exclusive or anything. Like, I don’t expect you to wait for me to come back, you can sleep with other people while I’m gone.”

Is death a good option, right now? Would jumping off the building hurt as much as this does?

Jihoon wants to burst into tears, pathetic, childish tears. His face is hot, his throat feels choked and it hurts so bad that he wants to scream over it.

“Oh, no.” He chokes out a pitiful laugh. “No, I wasn’t thinking that– I mean, I wasn’t thinking we were exclusive or anything.” The black hole that is his heart is sucking everything in at a painful rate. He can’t sit here anymore or he’s just going to combust. “In fact, I’ve got Junhui on speed dial just in case you fell through.”

What the fuck is he saying?

Seungcheol laughs. “Thanks, Hoon, I feel really loved.”

_God you are. So bad._

The crowd below them has dispersed, the sky returning to its slow-moving, inky black. The astronomical phenomena is coming to an end.

“It’s getting cold,” Jihoon lies. (It’s the end of May.) “I’m gonna head back, okay?”

“Yeah, good plan.”

Jihoon starts to stand, brushing the gravel off his legs and hands. He can't get away fast enough

“Oh, Ji?”

He looks down at Seungcheol. His wonderful eyes glimmer back up at him and Jihoon’s knees begin to quake. “What?”

Seungcheol opens his mouth, but closes it again. “Nothing, it can wait until tomorrow. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Jihoon nods, shoving his hands into his jean pockets as Seungcheol carries on looking at the sky. “Yeah.”

 

~

 

Jihoon’s third year is like a daze.

He knows he was being selfish. He knows he should’ve been happier than he was for Seungcheol literally achieving his dream. Ignoring the benefits, he’s still meant to be a  _friend,_ but somehow his own stupid feelings got in the way of doing that. 

Seungcheol leaves and Jihoon's left to pick up the pieces of his broken heart.

“He said to ask how you’re doing,” Jisoo says over a box of takeaway.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Jisoo makes a tutting sound. “Why don’t you talk to him!”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Nah, that’s a no-can-do.” He finds interest in the bottom of his noodles, poking it relentlessly with a fork. “The best way to get rid of feelings is to ignore them.”

“That’s not even remotely true.”

Jihoon shrugs. “Depends on the person.”

“Well, the good thing is you’ve accepted the fact that you  _have_ feelings for him.”

“And feelings in general,” Jeonghan adds.

“Why didn’t you tell him you liked him before he left?”

“Because…” Jihoon drops his box on the counter and sighs, “it would’ve just complicated things more. I mean, what’s the point of being in a relationship if I’m never gonna see him?"

“You would have seen him, just not for a year.”

Jihoon points at Jeonghan. “Ah-ha, see, I thought ahead. When he comes back, he’ll have graduated, then probably, by his words, will move back to America to work at NASA while I’m finishing my last year.” He picks his box back up. “Plus, I have no plans that remotely include moving away on my radar. No matter how it goes, we won’t end up together in a way that works.”

The pair is silent, and Jihoon takes that as he’s right. “Case in point, it’s better that I give up now for both of our better. You know what he said, he never thought we were exclusive anyway, so I’m fine with that.”

Jihoon’s a liar if he ever met one. He’s in no way, at the moment, fine with any of that. He still wants Seungcheol worse than he can form words to explain. He peeks through the door as Jeonghan skypes him, takes out one earphone when Jisoo’s talking to him, he’s even gone as far as to peek at Youngho’s phone when he’s texting him, just to check for something that he doesn’t even know of. It’s so obvious from the way Seungcheol frequents Jihoon’s dreams, or in the way he catches himself thinking about the former that he still very much is the Sun to Jihoon’s Earth. And they’re all slowly moving towards the center of the black abyss.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Youngho enters with a towel slung around his neck. “Donate your leftovers, please,” he says as he stands behind Jisoo and peeks around for extra food.

“What are you going to do if you and Seungcheol do meet in the future?” Jeonghan asks.

“Ignore that I ever had feelings for him and carry on the way he wants us to.”

“That’s so sad.”

“I know.”

“Wait, what?” Youngho questions. “What’s happening now?”

“Jihoon thinks that if he just ignores he has a heart-boner for Seungcheol, his achy-breaky heart will be healed,” fills in Jeonghan.

“He never loved me anyway.”

Youngho snorts. “That’s not what he said.”

There’s quiet. All eyes are on him.

“What?”

“Something you want to share with the class, maybe?” Jisoo says.

“Oh, well it’s not important–”

"Yes, it is."

Youngho looks at the three like he's being interrogated like he's a deer stuck in headlights.“I mentioned in passing that Jihoon’s a cynic when Seungcheol and I were drinking and he, like, said something about needing to get over you because he thinks you’re only into him for sex.”

Jihoon’s heart drops to his knees.

Jeonghan opens his mouth. “Oh, Jisoo, you’re dating an idiot.”

“Baby, when did this happen?”

“Uh, a couple of months before he left.” Youngho fishes around Jisoo’s box of noodles and spoons some into his mouth. “He said Houston is a way he’s gonna forget about Jihoon.”

You could cut the tension with a knife. Jisoo glances at Jihoon who stares off blankly. "We need to have words," he says to Youngho.

Clearing his throat, Jihoon stands from his seat at the breakfast bar and calmly drops his box in the bin. He moves swiftly, calmly, like he hadn't just found out he basically took a shit over one of the only profitable relationships he's ever been faced with, and that he's probably lost the love of his young adult lie.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sit in the bottom of your shower and cry.” He trots off towards the apartment’s bathroom and locks the door tight behind him.

He doesn't think the running water hides his cursing.

 

~

 

Seungcheol is hounded the second he walks through the door.

Jeonghan jumps on him, covers his face in purely platonic kisses (by his words) and barely lets the poor man have a word.

Jihoon lingers towards the back of the small welcome home gathering and tries to stop his heart from beating out of his chest.

“How was Houston?” Soonyoung asks as he gives Seungcheol a hug. “I really hope you learned how to ride a horse.”

“Those are some pretty stark stereotypes Soon, and it was great, thank you.” Seungcheol’s eyes land on Jihoon and he stops. His eyes flutter and his body shifts like the wind’s been knocked from him. He looks as beautiful as ever: his skin a darker shade of sun-kissed, his body better proportioned, his lips still looking as sweet as jelly.

Jihoon gulps hard. “Forget about me yet?” he says with a smile.

“How could I?”

“How about…” Jisoo begins, sensing some tension in the hard to place reunion, “we order pizza to celebrate!”

“He’s coming back from studying abroad, not serving in the military.”

“Can we talk, Ji?” Seungcheol says. “Outside, maybe?”

Jihoon finds it in himself to nod and follows Seungcheol into the warm air out on the roof.

“I missed you.”

A shiver darts down his spine.

“I missed you too.” Jihoon leans against the concrete wall and closes his eyes. Where does he even start? Does he proclaim his love on the spot? Does he ask Seungcheol how he feels? Does he beg for forgiveness or berate him for never speaking up like he should’ve? “How have you been?”

“Uh, pining. You?”

Jihoon smiles. “About the same.”

There’s a small silence where the wind whips around them like a whirl of cleansing.

"Jisoo, albeit, frantically, described what happened on the ride here," Seungcheol says. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jihoon opens his eyes and takes a deep breath in. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I heard from left and right that you had no heart and hated dating.” Seungcheol stuffs his hands into his coat pocket and bounces back and forth on his toes. “So, I kinda took that as a hint you weren’t into me.”

Jihoon snorts. “First of all, albeit small, my heart is certainly still there, thank you–” (Seungcheol grins.) “–and secondly…” he hesitates, trying to figure out which words to shove where. “... It was a situational thing.”

“Nah, I get it,” Seungcheol says. “Youngho did his best to explain your stance to me, but, granted, I was despair drinking.”

“This is just one big misunderstanding, isn’t it?”

“One that left us both hopelessly in love for three years.”

Jihoon winces. “It’s been that long?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think I fell for you the second Jeonghan introduced us.”

Jihoon feels like a fist has just been shoved into his gut. “Ouch,” he says. “I spent the first year and a half trying not to fall for you.” Seungcheol laughs. “And the rest?"

“Being in love with you.”

He looks like a child presented with a candy bar.

“So, now you know I love you, and I know you love me,” Seungcheol maps. “What’s the situation, Doc? Would we work out?”

Jihoon looks at him. He’s ever seen so much of something he loves so much, yet he can’t bring himself to touch it. It’s like Seungcheol’s a delicate allure that he just wants to forever stare at, but taking him out the box and leaving him subject to all the wear and tare love could bring is another story. Because no, the situation stands: Seungcheol’s going to graduate and move away and Jihoon’s going to stay and carry on as he is until he’s got nothing left to do. He doesn’t  _need_ a man to think about shifting his life around, but God damn does he want one. Goddamn, he wants Seungcheol.

Everything was so much easier when Jihoon didn’t have to put his theory into action. It’s a beautiful kind of bitter.

“That depends,” Jihoon starts. “How do you define working out?”

“I’m pretty flexible, really,” Seungcheol says. “I just want you, Jihoon, in any way I can. If I have to live my life fifteen hours ahead of you and wake up every morning ready to wish you goodnight, I will.” He slowly shrinks on himself and Jihoon’s heart starts to flood with indescribable warmth.

“Oh, thank God,” he sniffs. “I was hoping you’d force me out of my comfort zone and make me commit to a relationship I’m going to end up crying over a lot because I miss you.”

“I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not.”

Jihoon deflates and blows the air from his lungs. Jihoon doesn't know if he's ready for that, sarcasm and all. But he really can't brinhimselfef to care. It's like the small-scale, heart-felt version of sticking it to the man, without Jack Black urging him on.

“Come here,” he says, wrapping Seungcheol in his warmth with his arms hanging over his shoulders. Seungcheol rests his head in Jihoon’s neck, his hands holding him close by the waist and shivering at the chill he gets as Jihoon feeds his fingers into his hair. “Why’d you have to go and make my life so complicated?”

“I’m just that kind of guy.” Seungcheol pulls back for a moment and tips Jihoon’s chin up. He leans down, Jihoon’s body bouncing to his toes to meet his lips halfway in a tender, slow-moving kiss. The first of that kind. Jihoon can barely hear the sounds of the city over the loud thump of his heart in his ears.

“What do you two want on your pizza?” an intruding voice calls from down the hall.

With a bemused chuckle, Seungcheol gives Jihoon a warm smile as the latter drops back on his heels.

“Uh, just cheese, please,” Jihoon replies.

“I’ll have pineapple.”

Jihoon stares at Seungcheol, brow furrowed into a frown. “What did you just say?”

Seungcheol kisses him before he can speak again.

They’re going to work out fine.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing ive posted in months,, im in such a writing dump and hounded by exams i don't even know what to do with my time smh
> 
> hope yousens enjoy this jicheol thats taken me 27363 years! theres bits of this im not keen on, especially around the middle and there's so. little. smut i dont know whats wrong with me
> 
> title taken from drops of jupiter by train
> 
> hmu on twt @honqsoo <3


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